Saviour or Destroyer? (New Author)
by Padaloki
Summary: Odin and Thor struggle to defend Asgard as Loki is held captive by the Chitauri. On the brink of defeat, Odin sends Thor to retrieve Loki, but as plans go awry, the God of Mischief must choose which side to fight for - and whether or not to save the Nine Realms. Story originally begun by LJ-of-Asgard.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I am continuing this story for LJ-of-Asgard, who is the original author. This prologue and the next three chapters are LJ-of-Asgard's work, and everything after that is mine. **

**I hope you guys enjoy it!  
**

* * *

In his mind, Odin was a grand King and one of the mightiest of the Aesir. In the days when Thor and Loki were young princes and Odin was off fighting in the greatest battles, he was the embodiment of Asgard in its glory. Proud, mighty and many would say fearless, but also wise and a symbol of hope to the Nine Realms. But now, Heimdall could not see past the empty shell that was Odin. He was a broken man, a broken King. Sunken eyes and face worn with age and distress, he simply lacked the will to live. Even now, in his throne, he sat slumped to one side, elbow atop the armrest and his head resting on a clenched fist. Tired and beaten, his eye was clouded with ghosts of the past, and the Gatekeeper knew that the one heavy burden he carried aside from the ongoing war was the estrangement of his son, Loki. He'd hoped this bit of news would restore some faith in the King that he would see his son again.

"Speak." the Allfather raised his hand tiredly, gesturing for Heimdall to talk.

"I believe that Thor is wanted on Midgard by the people he knows so well as the 'Avengers'. The man they call Stark was calling out for me to alert Thor. It seems that there is a disturbance once again." Heimdall spoke softly and with the sense of knowledge he always held, the gold of his eyes were bright with what seemed like hope, but to Odin that was a forgotten feeling.

Odin contemplated this for a few moments, before raising his head to fix Heimdall with a broken stare.

"But I _need_ Thor."


	2. 1: The Stolen Relic

Thor wandered aimlessly through the palace that he called home, passing golden door after golden door until he reached the grand double doors of the banquet hall. Reaching out, his palm met the door with a quiet thud only audible to himself, and he pushed it open. The god was greeted with the comforting warmth of the sun, which streaked through the high windows of the hall and bathed it in a golden hue.

Thor looked around to find an empty hall, and the door shut behind him with a loud clang, disrupting the peace of the room. When the only thing that was audible in the hall was his own loud breathing, Thor walked towards the balcony entrance, each footstep seeming louder than the last. He reached another set of grand doors, and pushed them open to let the outside in.

As if on cue, the sun retreated behind dark clouds that brought the possibility of a storm, only this time; it was not within Thor's control. Asgard was at war. A war that had ravaged the Realm Eternal to the core until it was no longer a beacon of hope but a ruin of despair.

Thor was utterly helpless as he stared out at what was once a golden city, but was now burning and broken. His mind was far too occupied to make sense of anything but the war, which was one thing. Though the war had receded for the time being, it made no difference and did nothing to ease the pressure on Thor to protect his home and his people.

Asgard had lost most of its forces to the might of a combined Jotunn/Chitauri offense, and training new warriors did not happen overnight. If that pressure wasn't already enough, the Jotunn/Chitauri unification had led many to speculate on Loki's involvement; even the Allfather himself had doubts of whether his estranged son may indeed be leading this war from whatever far corner of the Yggdrasil he was currently in.

And that was the other thing. Loki.

Thor had been relieved to find that his brother was in fact, alive after he fell from the Bifrost into the abyss. Odin had been incredibly reserved and solemn in the weeks following Loki's suspected death. Thor had never seen his father in such a state before, it unsettled him and caused tensions in the palace to run high. Thor recalled it feeling like a heavy weight pulling on each single nerve strand in his body until he felt like he could, quite literally, snap in half.

The bloody war was Thor's only release, but what kind of monster derives pleasure from wading knee-deep in blood? Even if it was the blood of his enemies; it stained his hands and simply remained as a constant reminder of the unjustifiable deaths of thousands and the loss of one. A vicious circle that even the mighty Thor could not break. Not with the force of Mjolnir, nor his own strength. Not with his words and even less so with his ways.

And so it seemed with every body that fell at his own hands, his father caved in on himself further and further, his withered frame could only stand so much pressure thrust upon his shoulders. Odin was a tired king, and a tired king was no longer a king but a weakened body that sat upon the throne and bore the pressures he could no longer bear.

He mourned for his son, just as Thor mourned for his brother. However, after learning of Loki being alive, a spark of life seemed to reignite within Odin. The Allfather had sent Thor to get him and _'bring him home'_, Thor remembered the exact words as though Odin spoke them to him now, but he could only recall them with a harrowing feeling of guilt. It was _he_ who had driven Loki mad with power, after living in his shadow for so long, and he felt increasingly guilty with everything that happened to Loki outside of Asgard, remembering that it all fell back to him.

At least, that's what Thor believed.

When he brought Loki back after the battle in New York, he was still not convinced of Loki's actions, or the reasoning behind them.

Loki was confined to his chambers by Odin who was unable to exert any further punishment at the time, and was guarded constantly. Thor had decided to spend the first few days with his brother, attempting to extract any amount of information from him about, well, anything. But Loki was having none of it; he refused to talk and turned to simply ignoring Thor completely. Thor persisted, knowing that Loki's resolve was impressive, but it would not - could not - last forever.

On the 4th day that Thor had gone and talked to his brother, he had expected an ever defiant Loki as he pushed open the door to his chambers. Instead, the thunder god was greeted with a trembling mass of skin and bones, curled up in the foetal position upon the cold stone floor, emerald cape lying like a shadow next to the figure. Thor was incredibly alarmed and shaken by this sight; he called for the guards to summon the Allfather. This had alerted Loki to Thor's presence.

The younger god stirred, and it took one look from Loki, in which Thor could see just how deep the Chitauri had dug their revolting claws into the recesses of Loki's mind. The green orbs became swirling clouds of chaos the longer he looked, screaming out for help, and Thor found himself unable to bear the intense gaze any longer. This solidified Thor's belief that the damage that Loki had inflicted upon Midgard was not entirely of his own doing.

However, Loki's return had stirred up a conflict between Asgard and Jotunheim once more. Old wounds had been reopened and new ones added. The death of Laufey only added fuel to the fire, and upon learning it was one of Odin's whelps who dared threaten the Jotunn King, the Jotunns sought their revenge. War was soon upon Asgard, but it was easily manageable. Thor dared to say it was too easy, and that this was not a Jotunn war.

And he was right. A Chitauri invasion had begun on the weakest side of Asgard, where guards had been drafted in to fight in the Jotunn skirmish which was no more than a 'petty courtyard fight', as Thor would put it. The Chitauri quickly invaded the unguarded fortress and swept through the palace.

In the midst of the battle that had spread across the two sides of Asgard, Thor had seen a party of the Chitauri carry a body, or at least, it seemed like a body – not showing any signs of life. But then Thor saw the familiar green of his cloak, the familiar glint of his silver daggers upon his belt, the dented and scuffed armour, all of which he knew with a growing sense of unease, belonged to Loki.

A crippling fear washed through Thor, turning his blood icy and his breath ragged. With a ferocious roar, the god had aimed Mjolnir towards the group, intent on stopping their escape, but in a flash of blinding blue light, they were gone. Loki had been captured. Dead or alive, he did not know. The Jotunns had receded with the flash of the Tesseract energy signaling that the Chitauri had got what they came for.

But now, standing upon this balcony and looking out over the war-torn Asgard, Thor no longer simply wanted to find Loki. No, he had to find him. It was not a question of what people wanted now, it was what people needed. Thor could not stop this war, Odin could not stop this war, Asgard's defences could not stop this war. 'So be it' had not held fast for Odin this time.


	3. 2: Niflheim

Stars glinted upon the inky night sky, their light occasionally shrouded by a passing cloud. The cloud lingered for a moment, casting a temporary shadow across empty streets. Time seemed to pause. Nothing moved, the trees ceased to sway as the gusts of bone-chilling wind died down slowly. Noises grew silent, the birds of the night becoming little more than dots that marred the pale, gleaming surfaces of the clouds, slowly shrinking, until they disappeared completely.

Loki stared out across the eerie silence of Dublin's north side from his perch upon the highest branch of a century old oak tree that lingered on the outskirts of a thick forest, the twisting roots ravaging the earth around it like a serpent would ensnare its prey. The weather worn trunk bore the recent dagger marks of Loki's ascent to his current viewpoint.

Loki watched for a few more moments, and the cloud moved on once more, casting the glow of the stars out again. Loki's thin lips slowly stretched into a smile, not one of happiness, but one of anticipation, yet his azure eyes seemed restless, darting from point to point in uncertainty. A rare emotion for Loki, who felt foolish. Uncertainty?

He had nothing to fear. _Not yet, _he thought, as he recalled familiar words, uttered to him in the grating voice that belonged to a Skrull.

Tearing his mind away from the Chitauri for little more than a moment, the Trickster glanced upwards, watching as the inky blackness was slowly tinged with the blue-grey light of dawn, casting an eerie glow across his porcelain skin that was marred with crude battle wounds, some were raw and the harsh redness only emphasized Loki's apparent disarray.

The Chitauri would find him soon if he didn't return, the copy of himself that he'd left in his rotting cell would not last forever, and the amount of energy he had to use with depleted magic was draining him quickly.

Loki slowly, nimbly receded down the tree, the daggers making quick work of the trunk. He reached the bottom, and the force of the impact elicited a pained noise from the trickster, who clutched his side with ragged breaths.

These past months may well have consisted of him stranded and left to die in the cold wasteland of Niflheim. Unable to heal, he was left with several broken ribs and a plethora of nasty cuts and gashes all over his torso. He was too weak to run and hide from his captors, too frightened to return to Asgard – not that he could right now – and his mind was too far gone in the clutches of the Chitauri. What hope was there for him? Loki turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest as a clap of thunder boomed across Dublin.

* * *

Thor stood on the broken edge of the Bifrost, peering into the abyss with a harrowing feeling of unease. In his time on Midgard with Jane, Erik and Darcy, he'd learnt many things, most of which had been pushed to the back of his mind at this point in time, but one stood out for him, he'd heard it one evening when Jane had happened upon a spider in the bathroom.

"_God, Jane! It's just a cute little spidey!" Darcy exclaimed, jumping up from her seat to rescue the creature. Jane had her back up against the wall, occasional whimpers escaping her, much to Darcy's amusement. The darker haired girl sauntered into the bathroom armed with a glass and a piece of paper she'd picked up on her way over, happily singing along to whatever song was on the radio at the time.  
"Justgetit!" Jane babbled, the knot of fear in her stomach tightened as Darcy quickly caught the little black spider. The singing really wasn't helping.  
"Jeez, Jane, you gotta face your fears someday." Darcy turned towards the cowering physicist, whose glare prompted her assistant to think 'wow, if looks could kill.'_

"_Okay, okay!" Darcy quickly scuttled out of the bathroom to put the spider outside._

"_Why must you face a fear if you do not wish to do so?" Thor had questioned, after watching the exchange with slight amusement, but more confusion. These mortals really put themselves into silly situations. Jane jumped at Thor's booming voice. Straightening herself up and pulling herself together, she turned to Thor, smiling slightly at his confusion.  
"It's a.. thing," Jane waved her hands vaguely, "People think that if you face your fear, it will magically cure you of said fear." she scoffed incredulously. _

"_No thanks!" she added with a small, uneasy laugh. Thor simply nodded in understanding, his brow furrowed in thought._

A spider, admittedly, was a minor fear compared to his.

Thor felt unsteady on the jagged edges of the destroyed Bifrost; his body felt like it was being pulled down. Down towards the blackness that threatened to engulf him completely.

The gnawing sense of unease quickly escalated into an icy fear that ran through Thor's veins and froze him in place, eyes locked onto the abyss. He wanted nothing more than to break the darkness, to simply lift Mjolnir and smash the darkness to shards with the force of its strike.

It wasn't the fear of the dark, more so the fear of what had happened in that particular darkness that ravaged Thor's mind with each passing moment that he was stood there.

"Thor." Odin's ragged voice sent Thor's train of thought crashing, and he turned to face the Allfather. Odin watched Thor's reactions with a degree of uncertainty. Could he trust Thor to hold his own on Midgard? Alone? The recent events had plagued his son just as much as he, and it did not take a scholar to be able to see that Thor was not the god he used to be.

"Are you ready?" Odin spoke again, leaning heavily upon his staff. Thor looked up, noticing Heimdall standing behind the Allfather, looking forlorn but the gold of his eyes remained bright with the knowledge he always held.

Thor took one last look down at the abyss, before walking away from the edge and to his father.  
"I am." he replied firmly, his grip tightening upon Mjolnir as he prepared for his descent to Midgard once again.

Odin nodded, raising one arm to rest his hand upon Thor's shoulder, at first in a comforting gesture, but then his stare went blank and a golden light began to filter through his withered fingers, growing brighter and brighter until they engulfed Thor completely.

Thor could feel the warmth of the power down to his bones, his eyes slid shut and he let the golden energy twist and curve in spirals around him and pull him to Midgard. The bright light was a comforting change from the dead blackness of the abyss that plagued his mind. Before Odin's magic completed its task, he heard his father speak.  
"Bring him home, Thor."

* * *

"Is that him?" Steve Rogers stared up at the swirling mass of black clouds above the north-side of Dublin, flashes of blinding lightening stalked their way to the ground and back again in mere seconds, and the rolls of thunder rattled through him, making the soldier more and more anxious with every passing second.

"Who else arrives to Earth like that?" Tony Stark muttered, although it lacked his usual amount of snarkiness, it was still enough of a jab to make Steve glare at the billionaire, before returning his attention to the clouds again.

"I can't believe that actually worked." A rather incredulous sounding Natasha Romanoff spoke in between thunder claps. Clint Barton let out a small, strained laugh at this. Tony had essentially been shouting at the sky yesterday for a solid 10 minutes, in a rather impressive monologue to Heimdall about why the Avengers needed Thor on Earth again.

"Good call on that, by the way." Clint said to an apprehensive looking Bruce Banner, who took his attention away from the swirling clouds for a moment to crack a small smile at Clint.

In another blinding flash of lightning, something hit the ground with a resonating boom, the kind that reached the pit of your stomach and rattled through your chest, the kind that made the little hairs on your arms stand up on end in anticipation, or maybe fear.

The dust settled to reveal a rather bedraggled looking Thor standing there, clutching Mjolnir tightly in his right hand. Cuts and bruises marred his broad, Norse face, his hair was matted together with blood and sweat and quite frankly, he looked awful. But that wasn't what struck the Avengers as odd or deeply unsettling. It was the look in the god's electric blue eyes. Feral, like a wild animal that was ready to attack. But somewhere in those swirling, chaotic orbs, you could see that he was completely and utterly lost.


	4. 3: No More Than Memories

Upon Thor's descent, he'd brought down a jarring tension that deeply unsettled the gathered Avengers. A moment of silence stretched into much more than a moment, as Thor's gaze swept over the familiar faces with a cold, calculating study of each registering in his sharpened mind.

He would not speak first, why should he? They had called him.

"Hey, big guy?" Tony broke the silence; it smashed to pieces like glass would break, and jolted the Avengers back to reality.

Thor looked to Tony with a curt nod, but nothing else. As if to simply say that he was indeed listening.

There was no emotion lining his face, no giveaway in his body language, there was simply nothing that made Thor remotely human, or Asgardian, if you put it that way. The wild, feral eyes had simply glazed over with a neutral expression, and the electric blue seemed to dull.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tony murmured, thinking aloud.

The snarling that resounded from the Asgardian alerted him that maybe that wasn't the best topic of conversation right now.

Everyone was startled by Thor's harsh response, and so no-one made another move to speak to him.

"You called for me." Thor spoke with a voice that sounded like his throat had been ripped to shreds. It was grating, and drove further discomfort into the hearts of the Avengers.

Bruce was struggling with the tension. If they didn't lighten it, the Other Guy would make an impromptu appearance. The scientist pushed himself to move forwards, towards Thor, despite the god's aggressiveness.

"We did, Thor. Come with us, and we'll explain along the way, yeah?" he spoke calmly and at a steady volume, which made Thor a little more comfortable.

The god nodded curtly, and followed Bruce with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, as if trying to block out something.

The unease was gradually shifted as Bruce left with Thor, much to the relief of the remaining Avengers.

Tony had been unusually quiet, the bounds of discomfort were still wrapped tight around his muscles and he was locked into place, his mind running haywire. He hadn't made a huge effort with Thor in the time he'd been to Earth before, but Thor was counted as a friend nonetheless, and it was strange to see him so empty, and he would go as far to say that Thor had been, essentially, broken. Beyond repair? He didn't know. And he got the feeling it was going to be another task entirely to find out.

* * *

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the cold stone floor of his cell, trying to prop himself up against a wall and jarring in pain every time he slipped and made contact with the rough slate. His body simply no longer had the strength to support what was left of him.

He, Loki, once a noble prince of Asgard, had been reduced to nothing by the most barbaric race known to the Nine Realms. Why did he still hang on to that last thread of life?

A macabre smirk slowly emerged upon his scarred face. He laughed once, silently, with a heaving gasp of pain as the motion rattled his newly bruised ribs. The Chitauri had indeed found out of his late night rambles through the nearby forests, and had punished him accordingly.

The trickster knew he should be thinking of a way out, but the past 12 months had reduced the once-prodigious god into a trembling mass of pale skin and rattling bones, with a little bit of magic weaved in.

In the dim light of his prison, he looked as if he was at death's door, and understandably so. The Chitauri had taken the utmost pleasure in tearing Loki apart, mercilessly, piece by piece, pulling light from the depths of his broken mind and destroying it in front of him. The god could do nothing but watch as the Chitauri went through every buried memory and every hidden thought with relentless determination and a ravenous hunger for revenge.

Loki was utterly helpless as he finally lay propped up against the cold stone wall of his cell. Dried blood caked his dented armour, the metallic tang that continuously hit the roof of his mouth was overpowering, not to mention incredibly irritating.  
His armour weighed heavily upon his bony shoulders, and his breathing became increasingly laboured with every passing moment. The night chill began to set in, slipping through his armour and the rips in his clothes, lingering on his skin before seeping through to the bones, eliciting a shuddering breath from Loki, a cry for help threatening to escape his thin lips. But the god's resolve held fast, and he did not make a sound.

Night would fall and bring him comfort in sleep, if he could ignore the pain that shot through his body like electrical surges, jarring and restricting his ability to move. Yes, sleep would wrap its comforting arms around him and soothe him, nurse his injuries and keep him from harm. Just like a child in a mother's embrace.

Loki immediately regretted making that analogy, as he felt a sudden sense of longing for his childhood, the happiness that he felt there, the security and the love he so longed for now.

The few intact memories of he and Thor wreaking havoc upon the palace were all he had after the Chitauri had got their hands on him. And they were just that, memories. Nothing that ever felt like it could be real again.

The simple, childlike longing had left Loki plunging into a deep pool of thoughts; he was too tired to swim so he let himself drown in them. They took him right back to almost a year ago, where he was hanging off the broken Bifrost.

Loki didn't regret letting go. Falling through the void had numbed him enough to the point where he no longer cared; he had no feelings, no worries and no pressures. No, he accepted it, embraced it, even. In his mind, it was simple; Odin would never accept him as an equal, and Thor had the throne in his grasp. Not that he wanted it anyway.  
Of course, he could have stayed and become Thor's advisor, but that sense of being trapped in Thor's shadow would not leave his mind alone. If anything, it would only continue to fester and grow until it simply consumed the trickster's mind and turned him against the people he loved.

"No, I don't _love_ them. How can I?" The trickster murmured to himself, feeling all the aches and pains dissipate slowly as night began to wrap her arms around his broken body. However, a lingering stab of pain that ran through his chest as he murmured that sentence caused his thin lips to stretch into a humourless smile. _Of course. Even the trickster cannot trick himself, _the god thought as he let his eyes close, the smile receding as quickly as it had appeared.

In the end, it would make no difference if he had made a different call that day.

But what he did regret was his cowardice amongst the Chitauri. They found him, captured him and caged him like a wild animal. Helpless and weakened from the fall, Loki was alone and vulnerable. The Chitauri abused this new found power over the god, and it was when he finally surrendered that a horrible, gut-wrenching feeling settled deep in his stomach. When faced with death or betrayal of his family through destroying Midgard, he'd chosen the latter.

_Of course I'm not a worthy son_, Loki's mind raced as he lay on the cell floor, torturing himself further with sleep lingering tantalizingly close. _Only a coward would take the easy way out. _


	5. 4: Sinner's End

The plane ride back to Stark Tower was probably one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Tony's life, partly because Steve had snatched away his scotch before he'd been able to drink away his anxiety. No one talked; all attempts at conversation were dampened by the thunderous brooding on Thor's drawn face. Tony almost danced with relief when the Quinjet landed on his tower; while the others disembarked and trudged into the kitchen, he practically ran into his bedroom, tearing open a cabinet and gulping down the bottle of unknown but thankfully alcoholic substance inside. Fortified by the drink and feeling more fit to take on the surly Norse deity downstairs, Tony descended to the kitchen, bracing himself for icy tension inside.

"Properly drunk now, Tony?" Bruce asked darkly from his seat at the table as Tony ambled in, winking at Thor.

"Of course," Tony replied with a smile that clashed horribly with the atmosphere. "Story time, Point Break. Why the long face?"

Thor's expression tightened further, if possible. "Asgard is... weakened. Weakened by war with the Chitauri and the Jotuns combined. My father cannot hold his strength against them for long, and when he breaks... I care not to think of it. I hope you bear good news, friends, for such a thing has been long missed in my realm."

Steve looked at the others before replying. "I don't know if it's good news, but we think the Chitauri are here. Bruce and Tony found some energy thing-"

"-Radiation signature-" Tony mumbled.

"-and we were going to try and track them down."

"But?" Thor asked.

"But we think there are quite a few of them. Possibly an entire army. It might even be their headquarters. Whatever it is, we need your help infiltrating and attacking it. If that's something you can do right now."

Thor ran his fingers along the scruffy blond hair of his beard, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I do not know quite what to make of this, but it is better news than I think you realize. If there are a great number of Chitauri on this planet, and they have not yet begun an assault, then it may be that their presence is for the purpose of commanding their forces, rather than subjugating this realm. We have searched in vain for their leaders, though I do not think we considered that they could be here. This may bode well for the war."

Some of the tension dissipated at Thor's words. Bruce looked immensely relieved, and Clint and Natasha's hands drifted away from their weapons. Tony felt quite warm and happy, though he suspected the alcohol had a bigger hand in that than anything Thor said.

"Well, Sparky, are you ready to kick some Chitauri a-"

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed. Tony rolled his eyes. For all his efforts to integrate the supersoldier into 21st century society, the man still had a conniption fit at the slightest hint of profanity.

Thor smirked slightly at Steve's interjection, his sour mood alleviated a little by the humor of his friends. The darkness returned to his face, however, before he spoke again. "There is one other reason for my departure from Asgard," he said. "Loki is... missing. It was twelve months ago when the Chitauri first attacked, and I believe they took him. We have had no word concerning him since. Father thinks he may be helping the Chitauri, but-"

"-But what?" Clint asked. "Of course he is. They're his little friends. Oh wait, don't tell me he's turned traitor on them too?"

"Have care in how you speak of my brother," Thor said in a low, threatening voice. "I have had doubts about Loki's willingness in aiding the Chitauri since I first confronted him on Midgard. I know my brother well, and his behavior... it was not typical."

"Yeah, well, usually it isn't considered typical for people to try and take over the world," Clint retorted. Bruce shot the archer a warning glare, motioning for him to stop talking.

"I understand your animosity against Loki, but there is little doubt in my mind that the Chitauri exercised some form of influence over him. His actions were fueled by his own hurt and anger, I believe, but he did much that did not fit with his character. I worry for him now; I do not think the Chitauri will treat him with much kindness. Have you heard anything of his whereabouts?" Thor asked with restrained hopefulness.

Steve glanced at the others. "Not that I know of. I can contact SHIELD, but I think they'd have told us if they spotted him anywhere."

"No reports of any horny villains on the loose," Tony confirmed. "But hey, we can help you look for him, as strange as that sounds, once we've obliterated alien HQ."

"I thank you, friend Stark," Thor replied, though he seemed disappointed that they had no word on Loki.

Steve pulled out his cell phone. "I'll call Fury. Everyone else get ready to find the Chitauri. Tony, Bruce, do you think you can pinpoint their location?"

"Within a 5.5 mile radius, yes," Bruce replied. Steve nodded, then stared in confusion at his phone.

"What's wrong, Capsicle?" Tony asked, leaning over to look at the device in Steve's hand.

"I thought- to call someone, I though you pressed-"

"Oh, give it to me." Tony grabbed the phone from Steve's hand, punching in Fury's number and holding it to his ear as Steve protested. The director answered right away.

_"Captain?"_

"This is your favorite genius speaking, Saint Nick."

_"What is it, Stark?"_

"Hammer boy just told us that his psycho brother has been gone for the past year."

There was a short pause. _"Damnit, why can't those Asgardians keep track of him? You'd think they'd have a way to keep Loki from running off again."_

"Thor seems to think it was a kidnapping this time. By the Chitauri. He wants to know if we've seen Reindeer Games anywhere."

_"Should we have?"_

"Dunno. Thor didn't have any leads."

_"I'll look into it. I assume you guys are gonna go after the Chitauri?"_

"Yep, soon as everyone's suited up."

_"Good. Report to me when you get back."_

"Aye, aye, cap'n."

Tony hung up and gave the phone back to Steve.

"Do you think Loki's with the Chitauri?" Steve asked as he replaced the phone on his belt.

Tony shrugged. "Maybe no, maybe so. If we do see him, I'm giving him the bill for the tower repairs. Do you know how much it cost me to replace those windows he chucked me out of?"

"No idea. Now get your suit on."

* * *

Dawn, with all the warmth of morning, brought no comfort to Loki as he slowly awoke, sluggish with aching pain and hardly rested after his fitful sleep. His eyelids drooped as he willed himself to fall back into oblivion, but his body persisted in waking, in making some attempt at strength. His mind had lost the ability to care.

Perhaps the Chitauri would leave him alone today. Maybe, after the punishment they had inflicted on him the day before, they would be satisfied, just for a little while, and wait before torturing him again. Then again, he thought wryly, the more they abused him, the sooner he would die... and only in death would he find respite. Life was too cold and cruel to sustain any will to survive.

A distant crash reached Loki's ears, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. Loki sighed with trepidation, his dull apathy not yet strong enough to quench the small burst of fear at the sound of his captors' approach. Summoning all his willpower, Loki pushed himself up so that he no longer lay against the wall, but instead sat straighter, his expression an attempt at dismissiveness.

Keys jangled outside the thick metal door, which swung open, hitting the wall of the narrow cell with a thud. Light streamed in, and Loki raised an arm weakly to shield his eyes as an imposing figure stood in the doorway.

"Did you not learn your lesson, runt?" A harsh voice demanded. It was the Other. Loki shuddered involuntarily.

"A poor teacher cannot expect his student to remember much," Loki replied, ashamed by the weak gasp that was his voice. He barely managed to be audible, let alone disdainful. Predictably, his words were met with scornful laughter.

"A valiant attempt, little prince, but I smell your fear. Was it this false bravery that led you to contact your brother?"

Loki's heart froze. Thor? Had Thor come? Come for _him?_"W-what?" he stammered.

"Do not feign ignorance with me. Why else would he have come to this realm, when war rages in his city? I cannot believe you were foolish enough to do this, especially after we discovered your little ventures outside the prison. But no matter. We will enjoy the chance to teach you obedience a second time."

Loki bit back a cry as the Other grasped the front of his shirt and dragged him from the cell, his legs jostling roughly against the stone floor. _Let them hurt me,_ he thought bitterly, _let them torture me. I will not beg for mercy. I welcome death._

He was hauled out of the prison and into a dank courtyard, where a host of Chitauri warriors had assembled, greeting him with a massive roar of excitement and derision. The Other dragged him onto a raised platform, dropping him in a pathetic heap before the feet of a tall, malevolent figure.

"So, Loki, you thought to disobey my command. Again."

Loki tried to move, but his limbs refused to respond to his demands. His efforts proved unnecessary, however, as the Other's hands grabbed his arms and yanked him up so that he knelt limply before Thanos.

"You will look at me when I speak to you, frost runt," Thanos growled. He drew a small, wickedly gleaming knife from his belt, dangling it in his thick fingers as he eyed Loki. "Now tell me. Did you bring your brother to this realm?"

Loki said nothing, steeling himself for Thanos' reaction. It came, moments later, when the knife slashed across his cheek, leaving a thin line of scarlet blood and a terrible, poisonous stinging. Loki couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips at the blow; it was so predictable, so expected. They thought they would break him this way. They thought he still cared.

"Answer me!" Thanos roared. The knife sliced across Loki's cheek a second time, but the trickster still was silent, though his breath was more labored as the wounds throbbed.

"Do you want to die?" Thanos asked, his voice quieter but laced with venom. "Do you want this to be your end?"

A ghost of a smirk etched itself on Loki's face. Slowly, he raised his eyes to Thanos' glittering black ones. "You cannot break me," he whispered.

The throng fell silent. Thanos stepped back, then kicked Loki viciously in the chest. Loki curled in on himself, winded, as the titan heaved with fury. "Do not defy me, wretch! I broke you long ago, broke your silly ambition and fragile heart, bent you to my desire and forced you to obey my command! There is nothing you can do resist me now! I-" Thanos broke off, suddenly still. In the distance, an explosion sounded, rattling the walls of the fortress. Thanos' eyes widened. "To your posts!" he shrieked to the Chitauri filling the courtyard. More explosions boomed as the warrios scurried away, and a cloud of black smoke rose into the air.

"Master!" a sentry cried. He knelt before Thanos before rising and delivering the rest of his message. "We are under attack!"

"I know," Thanos snarled.

"It is them! The Midgardians who thwarted us before! They have the son of Asgard!"

"Impossible!" Thanos leaped off the platform, followed by the Other. They rushed off to confront the others, leaving the courtyard deserted.

_"Impossible,"_ Loki breathed. Surely they had not come for him? No, they couldn't have. They were attacking merely as foes of the Chitauri, not because of him. Such an idea was foolish. Nevertheless, Loki decided he would rather not be found; they would drag him back to Asgard, and Odin would heal him only in order to punish him once more. Gritting his teeth, Loki summoned the meager remnants of his magic. With more effort than it had ever required to conjure a spell, Loki disappeared from the courtyard with a soft _crack._

The gentle brush of grass against his skin and the sound of leaves rustling in a breeze were all that Loki registered before exhaustion swept over his mind, plunging him into a deep, dark sleep.


	6. 5: My Brother's Keeper

The first sensation Loki was aware of was cold. Bitter, wet, muddy cold. Gradually, he opened one eye, only to quickly shut it again when a droplet of water hit it. As feeling returned to his body, Loki became aware that it was raining, and that he was lying in mud. He groaned as he tried to move and was greeted by an aching stiffness in his arms and legs, the movement further provoking a stab of pain in his midsection. Probably broken ribs.

It seemed like hours had passed before Loki finally mustered the strength to turn himself over. He cried aloud with pain as his arms and legs shook under his weight, his most definitely broken ribs throbbing with pain. He pulled off his armor, nearly passing out with the effort, and began to crawl, not conscious enough to know why movement was necessary, but motivated by the urge to seek help or some kind of shelter. The rain-trodden grass that surrounded him suddenly gave way to an expanse of a hard, rock-like surface. It took Loki several minutes to understand that he had reached some kind of road. A small spark of hope flared in his heart; if there was a road, there might be people.

He had been crawling on the road for some time, his knees and hands now bruised and raw, when a low hum reached his ears, followed by lights so bright that they completely blinded him. Panic flooded Loki's mind as the hum turned into a roar, approaching with terrifying speed, and he raised his hand to cover his eyes - he heard the screech of rubber on pavement -

* * *

Tony blasted a Chitauri warrior with a jet of energy from his hand, then glanced around to check for more. The battle had been surprisingly short; he suspected that Thanos or whoever was in charge here had vacated the premises, leaving the base empty save for a few soldiers.

"Found anything, Cap?" Tony yelled, jumping backward as a fiery bullet from the gun of a stray Chitauri streaked past him.

"No. I think they took everything important and left," Steve replied.

Incapacitating the Chitauri soldier with a solid punch, Tony stepped over the body and jogged over to Steve. "Yeah, I think they skedaddled. Wonder what they were up to here."

"Guys!" Clint called from inside the base. "Guys, get over here!"

Tony and Steve quickly ran to the archer, blasting several holes in inconveniently placed walls on their way. They arrived to find Clint standing in the doorway of a small, dank room.

"What's up, Legolas?"

"I think Loki was here."

"Here?" Tony asked, stepping forward. "This isn't exactly five star-" he stopped when he saw in the inside of the cell. Blood was splattered over the floor and the walls, which were coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime. In the corner lay Loki's golden helmet - well, it wasn't golden any more, and Tony wouldn't have guessed at its original color if he hadn't know it already; it blended in so well with the filthy room.

Steve used his boot to wipe off a section of the wall. "Tony, Clint, look at this."

Tony's gut twisted uncomfortably at what Steve had uncovered on the stone wall. Rows upon rows of tiny vertical scratches, the oldest barely visible, the newest appearing only a few days old.

"One for every day they had him," Steve said, his voice forcefully level.

Tony swallowed. "I don't even want to count them."

Clint said nothing; his face had turned a rather pale grey. "I thought Loki was friends with these guys."

"You obviously thought wrong," Tony said. "Where are the others?"

"I don't know," Clint replied. Tony blasted off from the ground and flew a quick circle around the base. The fight had come to an end everywhere else as well; Natasha was currently standing guard while Bruce hastily pulled some clothes back on, having shrunk back into his normal size, and Thor - what was Thor doing? Tony touched down next to the thunder god, perplexed.

"Thor, buddy, everyone else is that way. Where are you going? Did you see Loki?"

"Loki?" Thor whipped around to face Tony. "Loki! I must find Loki. Tell me where he is!"

Tony backed up a few steps. "Whoa, buddy, calm down. I haven't seen him. I think he was here, though; we found his cell. Empty."

"Cell? Then he has escaped," Thor growled, turning and striding away from the base. Tony jogged behind him.

"Thor, what the hell? I thought you were rescuing him! Or did he attack you? Slow down, Usain, where are you going?"

"To find Loki."

"Well, that answered about one of my questions," Tony panted. Running beside the extremely fit Norse god while wearing an iron suit was not much fun.

"This matter is none of your concern."

"You're the one who told us about Loki! We just called you to help with the Chitauri!"

"The Chitauri were doing you no harm."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tony exclaimed, taking off in his suit and flying directly in front of Thor. "What did you just say?"

Thor struck Tony's chest, knocking him several feet to the side. "I said the Chitauri were doing you no harm. Now leave me. I have work to do."

Tony flew back in front of Thor, the gears in his mind whirring almost audibly. "Thor, look at me. Holy heck, when did your eyes get that blue?"

* * *

The thing with the terribly bright lights skidded to a stop mere feet away from Loki, raised voices immediately audible as soon as the hum of what must be an engine of some sort died down. The lights shut off, and Loki blinked, eyes watering, as two people ran over to him, shouting frantically words that he could not discern at first.

"Good heavens, what are you doing in the road? We nearly killed you!"

"Frank, he's hurt! Call an ambulance!"

"No," Loki groaned, unsure why he was protesting, but alerted by some vague memory that 'ambulance' was connected with 'law enforcement' and that that was something he needed to avoid.

"Did he just say something, Peggy?"

A gentle hand brushed across Loki's face. "Dear, he's covered in blood! We need to get him out of the rain, he's injured."

Other hands, larger and stronger, slid along Loki's gaunt body. One arm wrapped around his shoulders, another around his knees, and Loki felt himself lifted into the air. He turned his head to see who was carrying him, but could tell nothing through his blurry eyes other than that it was a man, and a rather elderly one.

"Who... are you?" Loki mumbled, barely able to form the words.

"Frank Phillips," the man replied. "Though that probably don't mean nothing to you."

"Frank, how will we get him back? Can we take him in the truck?"

"Yeah, I'll put him in the backseat. There'll be room if I bend his knees."

Loki thought for a moment that the rain had stopped, then realized he was under a roof of some sort. The man set him down on something soft, but rather short and narrow. Then a door slammed shut, and Loki thought in a wild moment of fear that he was in a cell. But then the man and woman entered whatever space this was and turned on engine. Was this their vehicle? Loki wondered as he felt the thing bumping over the road. Several minutes passed before they slowed down. The door opened and the man lifted him out again. Loki felt the rain on his face for a few seconds before he was carried into a house.

"Where shall I put him, Peggy?"

"Bring him over here. We'll let him lie on the bed."

Loki suddenly found himself stretched out on something very comfortable and clean-smelling. He pressed his fingers into the material; it was not particularly soft, but it felt wonderful under his hands, which were still raw from crawling on the wet road.

"Frank, get me some water and a cloth, will you? And some bandages." The woman, Peggy, began to ease Loki's shirt off, sucking in her breath at the wounds and scars on his chest and stomach. "My, my, you've been in fight, I'll wager." Her voice had an accent different from the man's, Loki realized, though the fact meant little to him at the moment. Frank returned, his feet heavy on the creaky floorboards. Soon a wet cloth was dabbing at Loki's face, then at his arms and chest. He was lifted so that she could clean his back as well. Loki vaguely wondered why these people were caring for him, but he was too tired to try and work out a reason.

"Do you think he was in a fight, Frank?"

"Maybe... No, I don't reckon so. Some of these bruises are old; they're already healing. Looks to me like someone's been beating him up for a good long while."

"Poor dear," Peggy said sadly, pressing lightly on the swelling around Loki's ribs and causing him to flinch with the sudden pain. "Frank, he's got broken ribs. Have you ever healed ribs before?"

"Once or twice. Remember the time that old cow Bessie got spooked and ran into Charlie? He got a couple cracked, and healed up just fine."

Loki gritted his teeth as the man pushed his ribs back into place, triggering waves of pain. He held Loki up by the shoulders as Peggy wrapped some sort of bandage around his chest, tight enough to hold the ribs in place but not enough to constrict his breath. Trying to distract himself from the throbbing pain, Loki wondered who these people were; he had already deduced that they were quite old, from the sound of their voices and the way Peggy's hand trembled ever so slightly. Loki tried to remember if he had ever known a Frank or Peggy before, but as he could barely recall details of his own life, he had no success. The name Peggy did ring a distant bell, though Loki had no idea why.

"We should let him sleep now. The poor man looks exhausted," Peggy said, gently pushing a few strands of damp hair from Loki's face. "He'll feel better in the morning."

Frank replied from another room. "I'll bring down the spare mattress from the attic. You see if we got any spare blankets in there."

"I will," Peggy called back. She paused for a moment. "I wonder what happened to you," she said softly. Then she left, and Loki scarcely had time to realize that he was alone before he drifted off into a deep sleep.


	7. 6: All Scrambled

When Loki awoke, it was not to cold stone and aching joints, as he had grown to expect, but to warmth and softness. It took him some minutes to realize that he was lying on a bed, and that someone had bandaged his wounds. Loki began to panic, unsure where he was; but then the events of the previous night flooded back to him, and he remembered the rain and the truck and the elderly couple who were so kind for reasons he could not fathom. Frank and Peggy... Loki tried in vain to think why the woman's name sounded so _familiar._ There was a connection to the Avengers, Loki thought; but none were named Peggy. The same went for the handful of SHIELD agents he had spoken with long enough to know their names. Who was this couple? And why had they taken him in? Did they know who he was?

Somewhere outside, a rooster crowed, and the sound was soon followed by shuffling outside of the bedroom. Loki watched with curiosity and slight apprehension as the door opened and Peggy entered, carrying a glass of water and wearing a fluffy white robe.

"Hello, dear, you're already up! Frank, make that eggs for three," she called, then handed Loki the glass of water. "I wanted to give you some last night, but you weren't awake enough." She waited as Loki sat up, his back against the headboard, and drank a few tentative gulps. "Are you feeling better?"

Loki coughed before speaking, his voice stubbornly refusing to respond to his commands. "Somewhat," he rasped. "Where am I?"

"Iowa," Peggy replied. "Do you know where that is?"

Loki shook his head.

"America. Just west of the Mississippi River. Frank and I have a little farm out here; it's been in his family for many years. We don't often get visitors. Where might you have come from?"

"I..." Loki glanced at the woman, wondering how much of the truth he could tell her before she and her husband threw him out in horror. Now that he looked at her, Loki realized that Peggy was quite old - older than any Midgardian he'd ever seen. "I am not from this country."

"Foreign?" Peggy asked. "Are you British? You sound like you could be. I'm British myself."

That explained Peggy's accent, Loki thought. "Yes, British," he replied, the word strange on his tongue. Peggy gazed at him shrewdly, and Loki realized with a sinking feeling that she didn't believe him. But she only shrugged and took back the empty glass.

"I won't press you if you don't want to tell. I can guess you're on the run from some kind of trouble. Whatever or whoever it was seems pretty nasty to me. You can stay here until you're recovered, or perhaps longer if you don't have anywhere to go."

"Thank you," Loki whispered. Did he have anywhere to go? He supposed not. A terrible sensation of loneliness crept over him. Asgard had rejected him, Midgard loathed him, no one in the Nine Realms would offer him shelter... except for this strange couple. Loki's mind burned with questions.

"You're welcome, dear. Are you hungry? Frank's making scrambled eggs."

Loki hadn't the faintest idea what scrambled eggs were, but, if he was going to be here for a while, it wouldn't hurt to try. "Yes, I am."

"All right. I'll get you a plate.'

Peggy left; Loki craned his neck in an effort to watch her as she disappeared into the kitchen, but he could not see her or Frank from his position on the bed. Closing his eyes and leaning back on the bed, Loki tried to envision a map of Midgard. America... that was one of the larger countries. It was where... it was where he had fought the Avengers, Loki thought with an unpleasant twist in his stomach. The Mississippi River? He had to think for a moment before he remembered that there was a great river that split 'America' into east and west, and Iowa... that was one of the little provinces on the western side. Loki now knew where he was, but it did him little good, except for the small comfort that he was many miles from the Avengers.

Loki's thoughts faded as Peggy reentered his room, carrying a fork and a plate of piled with something fluffy and yellow.

"Here you go, dear," she said, lowering the warm plate into his lap and handing him the fork. "Will that be enough for you?"

Loki nodded; he hadn't eaten in far too long, and he doubted that his stomach could take much at the moment. Grasping the fork in one hand, he tentatively speared one of the soft yellow objects on the end and brought it up to his mouth. It certainly tasted like eggs, but not prepared in a way he'd ever seen in Asgard.

"Thank you," Loki said when he had swallowed.

"Oh, you're welcome," Peggy replied, smiling. "How do you like it?"

"Ah-" Loki bit his lip, his free hand moving to his stomach, which felt as though it was not taking kindly to the scrambled eggs after being deprived so long for food.

Peggy furrowed her eyebrows. "It's been a while since you've eaten, hasn't it?"

Loki nodded again, closing his eyes as a wave of nausea threatened to forcefully reject the eggs.

"Frank, dear, bring a bucket into the bedroom. Quickly." Peggy hurried to pull the plat from Loki's lap and hold his loose hair behind his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed, sweating and trying to suppress the bile rising in his throat. Fortunately, Frank soon appeared with an old bucket, which he dutifully held as Loki vomited the eggs and whatever little else was in his stomach.

"That's it. Better out than in. Probably should have given him milk first, Peggy."

"You're right; I'll wager he hasn't eaten in weeks."

Loki coughed, glad to find that his rebellious stomach seemed finally to have emptied itself. Breathing deeply, he leaned back against the headboard. "I am sorry," he rasped. "I have been too long without sustenance."

Peggy and Frank exchanged a worried glance.

"Just what did happen to you, lad?" Frank asked.

Loki opened his eyes and studied the elderly couple. Was there any chance they would believe him. "Well... to begin with, I am not British."

Peggy smiled slightly. "I guessed as much."

"Have either of you ever heard of Asgard?"

* * *

Steve sprinted to where Tony lay on the ground. "Tony? TONY?" He fell to his knees beside the billionaire and was glad to see that he was breathing, but seemed to be in shock. "Hey, can you hear me, Tony? What happened?"

Tony blinked several times before pushing himself upright, groaning as his chest throbbed angrily. "Cap, I swear, Thor's having a psychotic break or something. He just flew off after telling me that he had to find Loki. Not 'find' as in 'rescue,' but 'find' as in 'apprehend and return to Chitauri as quickly as possible.'"

"What?" Steve looked confused. The others had arrived as well by this point.

"Where's Thor?" Natasha asked.

Tony sighed. "Okay, I'll repeat the story. Thor just stormed out of here and took off with the intention of finding Loki, and, I assume from his bizarre behavior, giving him back to Thanos."

"Why? I though he wanted to rescue..." Bruce's voice trailed off, his forehead creased in thought.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tony said. "But then I got a good look at him and his eyes were that crazy blue, like Clint's were when Loki used the glow stick of destiny on him."

Clint's face darkened. Natasha hastily spoke, gently squeezing Clint's arm. "Are you sure, Tony? Did he look like he was under some kind of mind control?"

"He sure as hell wasn't acting like normal," Tony said. "Thor was the one who was claiming earlier that Loki might not be the bad guy. A few minute ago, he was hell-bent on hunting him down like some escaped convict. Either the Chitauri are controlling him or he's got a severe case of Multiple Personality Disorder."

"Do you think it's possible for an Asgardian to have that?" Bruce asked.

Tony stroked his imaginary beard. "Good question, Brucie. Considering that a condition like that would have to involve some kind of chemical imbalance in the brain, Thor would need to have some kind of mental defect in order to have that disorder. But if he's a god, then that can't really happen, can it? Unless Asgardians are more like the Greek deities, just super-strong versions of humans-"

"Okay," Steve quickly cut Tony off. "That's irrelevant. It's pretty obvious Thor's under some kind of spell or mind control. Whatever it is has convinced him that Loki needs to be captured. And the direct implication of that is that the opposite is true - that Loki has been a prisoner this whole time and has just escaped, probably in the chaos of the attack. Otherwise it wouldn't make sense for the Chitauri to get their hands on Thor only to send him off again with the objective of finding Loki and returning him."

The captain's words settled uncomfortably on the group.

"So what you're saying," Natasha said slowly, "is that Loki's the victim here. That we need to help him."

"Not in a million years," Clint muttered.

Steve ignored Clint. "I'm saying it's a strong possibility. The Chitauri can't be happy with Loki after he failed in his invasion. They were the ones who gave him the scepter and the army. Keeping him in that cell, torturing him - by the looks of it - that was probably how they were getting revenge."

Tony stared at the ground, forcing images of his own kidnapping and torture in Afghanistan out of his mind. As much as he hated Loki, he hated torture more, and the idea of anyone at the mercy of the Chitauri was very unpleasant.

"Is there any way to find Loki?" Bruce asked after a short silence.

"I don't know," Steve replied. "I was hoping you and Tony might have an idea."

Tony and Bruce looked at each other. "We could start with his magic," Bruce said. "It might have some kind of unique signature."

"Sounds like a plan," Tony said. He stood up, shaking the dust from his suit. "Well, time to head home, kiddies. I don't know about you, but I need a good cheeseburger before I go after Thor and his insane step-brother. Not the way I wanted to spend my weekend."


End file.
